


All The More Arm's To Hold You With

by Wearysea



Series: Loving Deceit Hours [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Fluff and Angst, Loving Deceit Hours, M/M, Remus-Typical Violence, Self-Esteem Issues, Spooning, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearysea/pseuds/Wearysea
Summary: Deceit indulges a little in his favourite hobby and Remus stops by after having a fun idea for them to try out, in doing so they have the conversation referenced in Remus’ “Forbidden Fruit”





	All The More Arm's To Hold You With

**Author's Note:**

> Loving Deceit Hours - Remus

Deceit liked old things. If he was asked, he wouldn’t really be able to explain why, not that he’d be in anyway inclined to give a truthful answer regardless. This fondness of old things could be seen most keenly in how he chose to decorate his room. Old leaves were scattered around the floor, mostly yellow, but orange, brown and green were also present, every single one making a delightful crunching sound under his foot. Dust settled on every flat surface, for the purpose of being wiped off, or to leave handprints in. It’s the little oddities he liked to take pleasure in that were reserved for his room, away from ridiculing eyes. The only person who would ever even think of entering his room wouldn’t notice such things.

His bookcase is full of yellowed pages and cracked spines detailing long dead philosophers and their theories. Antique quilts, stitched together by his own careful hands, sat in neat piles in various places around the room. He’d picked up sewing as a method of relaxation, he loved working with the soft, worn fabric, bringing the patterned patches together to make something warm and pretty. It made him feel good, that someone like him could make something nice, not much made him feel that way.

He certainly needed to feel that way right now.

Getting comfortable on the couch, he picked up one of the unfinished works from a nearby pile and got to work on completing the stitching. Sure, he could simply conjure the quilts up ready-made, but what would be the point in having them at all?  
It had been a while since his attempt at getting Thomas to understand him in the courtroom, but the wound to his pride still stung. If direct confrontation and conversation won’t work then fine, he can be subtle. He thrived off of being subtle.

However… subtlety may not be what Thomas needs right now. Almost as if he was summoned, the least subtle side of them all knocks on his door. He looks up from his current quilt to find a smile on his face, almost as if it were put there by someone else, and he answers, “Don’t come in, Remus.”

“HI! I remembered to knock this time! Are you proud of me, Dee?”

“Definitely not,” the smile seemed to be stuck, please call for assistance, he feared it may be permanent, but let it be known he genuinely did appreciate the effort Remus put in to respecting his boundaries even if he didn’t remember all the time, “You aren’t welcome to sit down anywhere.”

It’s important to note that while Deceit wasn’t bound solely to speaking in lies, it took a lot of self-control, he had to translate the lie to the truth in his head before he spoke, akin to how one would if they were still getting used to a new language, which wasn’t always easy but always took a lot of energy. Deceit didn’t have a lot of energy today.

If Remus noticed, he didn’t comment, he went straight for the kill. Literally. He had someone’s severed head in his hand, being held by the scruff of what was left of the neck. It might have been Roman, but who knows, under all that gore.

“So! I was in the imagination, cooking up some nightmare fuel, and just as I severed Roman’s head-” he holds up the mortifying memory aid to give Deceit a better look, not that he wanted it, before continuing “I had an idea! A for us idea!”

“I won’t consider it, depending on what the idea is.” Deceit always at least heard Remus out, he would be no better than the others if he tried to shut down everything Creativity wanted to try out without listening first.

“You have six arms!”

“No, that isn’t true.”

“And I have eight!”

“That is also incorrect.”

“So, I was thinking we could hold hands! All our hands! A metric shit-ton of hands!” He knew it was a good idea, Deceit loved soppy, cuddly crap like that. He pretty much never said no, even when Remus forgot to ask… and Remus liked doing things that made Deceit happy.

“I really don’t like that idea.”

Deceit had already brought out his other arms, he liked to hide them for appearances sake. Remus usually hides his too, but that decision was ironically more for practicality’s sake, it was difficult to dismember bodies with that many limbs getting in the way.

Remus acted on Deceit’s consent immediately, jumping onto the couch, nearly smacking Dee’s head in the process - only missing by a small margin.

Once suitably close, he worked his way behind Deceit and got busy locking some fingers. Both of them now lying down on their sides, the highest hands were parked right in front of a scale-covered face, the middle resting near the upper elbows, and the last two pairs being entangled just underneath. Below that, Remus’ lowest pair of arms wrapped around Deceit’s slender waist.

The quilt lay currently forgotten beneath the multitude of limbs, hopefully no one will get pricked by the needle still sticking out of the patchwork.

The severed head had been placed on the arm of the couch. Why, Remus.

“Hey! Can I tell you a story?”

“No, I wouldn’t love that.”

Remus instantly began regaling Deceit with his most recent adventure in Roman’s side of creativity. Surprisingly unrelated to the severed head. It included a certain Dragon-Witch, banana peels and a horde of zombies that looked like various decaying celebrities.

Deceit liked listening, particularly to Remus, he was so unlike any other side. Partly because he never lied. It was so intriguing to see a complete absence of his speciality on someone’s tongue, everything that comes out of that mouth is, if not exactly correct, whole-heartedly believed by the speaker.

Remus fascinates him in general, if Roman didn’t literally fulfil that role Deceit absolutely wouldn’t say that Remus was his mirror image. He admired that Remus was so unlike himself… God, he hated himself.

Deceit hadn’t noticed the tears leaking down the side of his face until one of Remus’ hands unlatched from his own and wiped them away, just for new ones to fall in their place.

“Is it something I did?” His voice suddenly soft and concerned.

“Yes.” Came croaking out from his throat, Remus could never make him cry, no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay,” slightly relieved but still proceeding cautiously – when had Remus ever been cautious? – he rubbed Deceit’s cheek, nuzzling the back of his neck “want to tell me what it is? So I can smash it’s face in? With a sledgehammer? And a brick? And a chair? Then pee on it?”

That got a laugh, always with the bodily fluids.

“It’s not… well…”

“Spill.” A rather severe frown marred Remus’ features “Spill. Spill. Spill. Like the blood of our enemies.”

The meaning of ‘our’ wasn’t lost on Deceit, whatever the problem is, he won’t have to face it alone. It’s every bit as comforting as Remus means talking about grievous bodily harm to be.

“Do you recall the last video Thomas made?”

Remus grows tense, he may not get a lot of subtext but he’s more than capable of reading between the lines here.

“They made you feel bad.”

Not a question but a statement. He hits the nail on the head, first try. Deceit feels the need to curl up and hide from such certainty, but Remus has him vulnerable here.

“I already felt bad but…” more tears fall, Remus conjures a box of tissues, then thinks better of it, and replaces them with a hanky, quickly dabbing both skin and scales. Deceit likes old things. “Yes, I suppose they did.”

“What did they do?”

The fact that Remus is calm is a warning sign in and of itself. Thomas is in for a hell of a time. Deceit almost feels bad for him; for the rest of the sides. Almost.

“Thomas, he’s…” interrupted by a sob, Deceit continues, “He’s… trying to be more honest and direct dealing with his issues.”

“Oooooo, that’s a nice song lyric,” Remus paused, thinking, it wasn’t often that he didn’t just let his consciousness flow out of his mouth freely, he must be truly worked up “but that’s not the point right now, is it? It’s made you feel bad, why has it made you feel bad?”

“… I might not be a necessary function,” referring to his role as Thomas’ self-preservation “but I’m definitely wanted. Honesty isn’t the exact opposite of what I am, after all. He’s dead set on accepting that there’s ugliness in his character, but not me.”

“… Good for Thomas, but bad for you?”

“No.”

“Oh, poor Dee, I want you, you know?”

“No, I don’t, but that doesn’t only help so much sometimes.”

“Tell me how you’re feeling, Hissy.”

“I don’t feel… ugly. Useless. Disgusting.”

That gets Deceit kisses wherever Remus can reach on the side of his face and neck, all over his scales. He likes that. Makes him feel a little less… unwanted. Remus keeps this up for a very long time. Roman’s severed head starts to smell.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoooo, first Sanders Sides fic, better get that link posted on tumblr lol.


End file.
